The Madness Within
by WaywardThoughts
Summary: He had always noticed it. Small, but not easily ignored. But with the Dark Lord's return, it has become more demanding, pushing at his sanity. He will not surrender to its whispers, its promises of fulfilled desires. But in the end, he may not want to fight any more. After all, we all go a little mad sometimes. Except that when the Boy Who Lived does, the consequences are huger.
1. Chapter 1

_**The Madness Within**_

Please read this.

I should explain what this story entails here. As everyone knows now, Harry was an unintentional Horcrux. It was attached to his soul and probably fed off his magical core. From reading the books, I have come to believe that every negative emotion of Harry's was fuelled by the piece of Voldemort's soul. You notice that when he gets angry, he rages. When he mopes, it is for a really long time. Or when he becomes obsessed, that obsession consumes him.

But for that ten years with Voldemort not dead, but not alive, I believe that the piece of his soul would have almost moulded together with Harry's own. It would have been easy to possess a child, but I imagine that Lily's protection and Harry's own magic would have prevented that.

So I imagine that piece of soul would have ceased to be Voldemort's and became part of Harry entirely. Almost like his magic was sentient inside him, like there was another personality that would step out when Harry was angry or scared. This "other" Harry would have used Voldemort's knowledge and Harry's own magical power and acted to save them both. But with Voldemort's return, I would be led to believe that the "other" Harry would have a much stronger presence, demanding to be "let out", as it were.

So put simply: Voldemort's piece of soul residing in Harry was absorbed by Harry's magical core. Voldemort lost his Horcrux, and Harry gained knowledge and even more power. However, the absorbed piece of soul became sentient inside Harry, yet it would be Harry. It would be his anger, hatred, fear etc. Personified. Yet it would be him. It would only remain a separate presence until Harry acknowledged it as himself.

Any clarification needed, feel free to PM me.

Now, on with the story.

_Harry's thoughts_

_**Other-Harry's thoughts**_

_**He had always noticed it. A small presence in the back of his mind. Small, but not easily ignored. But with the Dark Lord's return, it has become more demanding, pushing at his sanity. He will not surrender to its whispers, its promises of fulfilled desires. But in the end, he may not want to fight anymore. After all, we all go a little mad sometimes. Except that when the Boy Who Lived does, the consequences are significantly huger.**_

_****** PROLOGUE ******_

"_**First sign of madness, talking to your own head."**_

_**Let me out.**_

Harry Potter felt his jaw dislocate as his cousin punched him. Two of Dudley's friends, were holding his arms, leaving him unable to protect himself from the onslaught. It was pure bad luck that allowed him to be caught by Dudley and his gang, and now it felt that the universe was spitting on him. Another punch went straight to his stomach, the air whooshing out of his mouth.

_**Let me out.**_

His knees buckled and he fell to the ground. In an instant, someone's foot came hurtling into his side, and he hissed as two of his ribs caved inwards. The injuries were made all the worse by the fact he was so emaciated, courtesy of his aunt and uncle starving him for over two weeks. Another kick to his chest caused him to choke and cough up blood. Curled up on the ground, he was dimly aware of laughter above him and felt a sense of relief as the blows stopped. Through the cracked lenses of his glasses, he saw Dudley and his friends walk away, leaving him broken and bleeding in the street. He tried to stand up, but almost immediately fell over at the intense pain.

_**If you let me out, I could have helped.**_

_Shut up. You would have done nothing. I can't use magic outside of school remember?_

_**Don't insult my intelligence. It's yours as well.**_

_Oh, you're just hysterical._

_**Whoa. Someone's in a bad mood.**_

_I was just beaten half to death by my idiotic cousin and his friends. Of course I'm in a bad mood. Idiot._

_**You do realise that you're calling yourself an idiot, right? And we could have avoided the beating if you have let me help.**_

_You are NOT me. We've been over this. Besides, I haven't eaten in God knows how long. I have no strength to do anything, let alone fight off six other people._

_**You forget, I was once a part of Voldemort. He was particularly vicious in beating off bullies.**_

_Don't care. Are you going to heal me or not?_

_**Fine. Just let me take over and…**_

_No. Heal me and you're going straight back in._

_**Fine. Spoilsport.**_

Harry sighed as his bones began to knit back together. Dudley and his friends had been exceptionally violent this time around and there was a large amount of damage. He was careful to make sure evidence of the beating remained; otherwise Dudley would retaliate even more brutally. Or Dudley would tell Uncle Vernon that Harry was using magic, to which Uncle Vernon would beat him and then throw him in the cupboard under the stairs. That would be rather unfortunate. Harry sighed and looked up at the darkening sky. Aunt Petunia would lose it if he arrived later than her precious Diddykins. With another sigh, Harry began the walk back to Privet Drive. It was slow going, his ribs hadn't fully healed and with every step, pain sparked up his body. As he reached the driveway of number 4, he waved at Mrs Figg and turned to look at the house. The front garden was pristine, thanks to his own efforts, but he knew his aunt claimed credit to it from the neighbours. He opened the front door and slipped quietly inside.

As he made to go up to his bedroom, Aunt Petunia bustled into the hall from the kitchen, her face forming a sneer at the sight of him. He paused and waited for her to issue an order or make a disparaging mark, but none came. Her sneer fell as she stared at him, lingering over the mottled bruises on his face and neck. He thought he saw something flash in her eyes, pity? But it was gone as quickly as it came.

'Where have you been?" she snapped.

_**Why do you care? You never had before.**_

Eyes downcast, Harry replied, "Just out walking Aunt Petunia. I finished all the chores."

_**Yes, you only worked on them all day. Lazy cow.**_

Internally, he braced himself for the nasty comments and insults regarding the state of his efforts. But once again, he was surprised.

"Yes, I saw them. You're going shopping tomorrow; Vernon is having important business clients for dinner. I trust you know the rules by now?"

"Yes Aunt. I am to remain in my bedroom and make no noise," was his robotic reply.

With another terse nod, she turned walked back into the kitchen. Harry stood there for a moment, almost frozen in shock that she had not affronted him or anything. He quickly hurried up the stairs and darted into his room before she could change her mind. Locking the door behind him, he strode over to the widow and opened it, letting the cool breeze caress his face.

_**That was weird.**_

_What was?_

_**Aunt Petunia. Downstairs. Not a single nasty word. Could be a Death Eater.**_

_I don't think so. She asked me about the rules of guests. Besides, there are blood wards, remember?_

_**I don't believe they exist. Dumbledore probably just told you that to give you a reason to stay here and be treated like a Malfoy house elf.**_

Harry glanced at his desk and saw Hedwig had left letters to him from Ron and Hermione. Tearing them open, he read quickly, only for a frown to mar his features at their empty and hollow responses.

_**Well, at least you know where your friends' loyalties lie. With Dumbledore.**_

_He probably told them to not to say anything. In case it is intercepted._

_**Voldemort isn't out in the open, you twit. There are other ways of sending a letter. Muggle post, perhaps?**_

_I am surprised Hermione didn't think of that._

_**Evidently not the brightest witch of her age.**_

_That's a bit harsh._

_**Don't care. As for Weasley, I'm surprised that you forgave him for his abandonment of you during the Tournament. How can you be sure you can trust he won't leave you again?**_

_You're doing it again._

_**Doing what again?**_

_Trying to get me angry so you can slip out._

_**Oh, you're good. But think about it.**_

_Don't you think I already have? Sometimes I think I need some other friends. You know, in case it happens again._

_**You have me.**_

_We are not friends. You just live in my head. Shut up, I'm going to sleep now._

_**God, you're rude. Fine.**_

Placing his cracked and broken glass on his bedside table, Harry lay back on his bed and quickly asleep.

His dreams, as usual, were plagued by visions of Cedric's lifeless body, Voldemort's contempt filled face, the haunting golden glow on the wand connection. With a startled cry, he awoke and sat up, gasping for air.

_**This is becoming rather tedious, you know. If you let me help, I can keep the dreams away.**_

_I'm telling you, you're not coming out. It's bad enough that every time I use magic, there's a chance that you'll break through. I'm not letting you out willingly._

_**Party pooper. No cake for you.**_

_Stop talking._

Rubbing his eyes, Harry glanced over at the alarm clock and saw the blurry numbers indicating it was nearly six. He had almost slept through the entire night. Climbing out of the bed, he pulled on his glasses and got dressed. As quietly as possible, he headed down to the kitchen to begin preparing breakfast.

_**We could poison the food.**_

_Oh, yes. That would go down well. I'm sure people would love that. The Boy Who Lived Kills Relatives. Rita Skeeter would have a field day._

Aunt Petunia entered the kitchen around half an hour later. She arched an eyebrow at him already working, but made no comment. He dished up her food and began preparing what would be Uncle Vernon's and Dudley's enormous breakfast. By the time both men were sitting at the table, their food was already in front of them. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia exchanged glances at his efficiency, as Dudley waffled down his bacon and eggs.

An hour later, with both Vernon and Dudley gone, Harry had just finished washing the last of the plates. His aunt then proceeded to give him a grocery list and money, ordering him to head down to the shops.

_**That lazy cow. It would have taken her ten minutes to pick up the food.**_

_At least we haven't been shouted at or hit._

_**Yet. I don't trust days that start too easily. I suggest you be on your guard.**_

The walk there was peaceful and undisturbed. As it was still early, the summer heat had yet to make an appearance, and Harry was eager to make it there and back without sweat pouring off him. Upon his arrival, he glanced at the list and was pleased to see that Aunt Petunia had decided to keep things simple with food that he knew. Collecting these items quickly, he passed through the checkouts, with the girl behind the desk eying him hungrily. He pretended no to notice her, it had become second nature to ignore the stares, the whispers, the comments. Not for the first time, he wished he wasn't famous. Grabbing the shopping, he left the store. The sun was blazing down, it was going to be a particularly warm day. Hopefully, Aunt Petunia would be merciful with the outside chores, but he doubted it.

_**That girl at the cashier was staring at you.**_

_I know. That's why I ignored her. I get stared at all the time._

_**But she thought you were cute.**_

_I am not cute._

_**Oh, I agree. You're stunningly attractive.**_

_Never say that again._

_**It is true though. You have your father's looks and your mother's eyes, this you know, yes?**_

_I only get told it every time I met an adult._

_**Yes, well. Those are meant to be compliments. Your dark hair clashes with your pallid skin, your eyes have an almost surreal look to them…**_

_If I didn't know any better, I would begin to think you were a love-struck fan girl._

_**If you're good looking, it means I am too. And I plan on emphasising that. But if you ditched the glasses, you could be a vampire. Girls love vampires.**_

_If I ditched the glasses, I wouldn't be able to see. Girls do not love vampires._

_**Oh, you know many girls then? Who, Hermione and Ginny? Please. As for your eyesight, I could fix that.**_

_Hermione and Ginny are girls._

_**Thank you Captain Obvious.**_

_Wait, you could have fixed my eyesight? Why didn't you do this beforehand?_

_**It never came up.**_

_Oh, the lack of vision was never apparent to you? At least I could throw the glasses away, I'm tired of fixing them._

_**Don't you want to look like your father?**_

_If it means I have to stumble around with glasses for the rest of my life, then no, I don't want to look like my father. Can you please fix them?_

_**Fix what?**_

_My eyes._

_**Say please.**_

_I just did._

_**Oh, so you did.**_

_You're just trying to get some more words written down, aren't you?_

_**What?**_

_What?_

_**Never mind. Here we go. Nice new eyes, coming up.**_

His vision blacked out and Harry stumbled, almost completely falling over. He stood still, trying to get his bearings, when his vision returned as quickly as it came. He blinked and squinted through the now blurred lenses. Pulling them off, he was amazed to see that his vision was faultless. Placing his glasses in his pocket, he continued back down to Privet Drive. It was getting rather warm, and a trickle of sweat ran down the back of his neck.

_**Do you like your new eyes?**_

_They're great! Thanks so much._

_**You do realise I did it for me as well.**_

_Yeah, but you can't look a gift horse in the mouth._

_**Sometimes your mind works strangely Harry Potter.**_

_Probably because you're in there…_

_**What's the problem?**_

_Do you have a name?_

_**I beg your pardon?**_

_Well, I'm Harry, but who are you?_

_**Oh, I've never really thought about it. I am you, so I'm Harry as well, but since you disagree, I'll find another name. I'll get back to you.**_

Aunt Petunia was waiting for him as soon as he walked in the door. Harry handed over the change and took the shopping into the kitchen. His aunt checked each bag to see if he had forgotten anything, and he tensed, closing his eyes, waiting for the snarls and shrieks. But nothing came. Instead…

"Where are your glasses? If you've lost them, I'm not paying for another pair."

Cursing mentally, Harry pulled his glasses out of his pocket and hurriedly placed them on. His vision instantly distorted, but his eyes adjusted quickly.

_Was that you?_

_**Yes it was. Hush now, she's talking to you.**_

"Since you have finished all the chores to a satisfactory level and I don't want you in this house while it is clean, you will go to your room. You will stay in there until tomorrow. I will bring up food as per the norm. Understood?" was her snappish and unpleasant speech.

He nodded and started towards the door that led to the hallway. Halfway there he paused and turned back to her. "Aunt Petunia, since I won't be eating until tonight, would it be alright if I had something now?"

It was a risky move, but one he had to take. His stomach had been groaning with hunger since he awoke, and he feared he wouldn't be able to make until that evening.

"Yes, yes, fine. Get something from the cupboard. Be quick."

Harry stared at her, eyebrow raised. He knew it was longshot asking, but he hadn't expected her to say yes. She saw his surprised look and snapped, "Oh, don't look so shocked. I'm letting you have food so you'll stay out of the way tonight."

He nodded in response and quickly made himself a small sandwich. Anything more would seem like he was pushing his luck, and he had no desire to lose what precious amount he had. He ate hastily, as his aunt began tapping her foot against the floor in impatience. Washing and drying the plate, he attempted to return to his bedroom. Just as he was about to climb the stairs, it happened.

"Harry."

He froze and looked across the hall to see Aunt Petunia standing there looking incredibly uncomfortable.

"Yes, Aunt?"

She stared openly at him, and for the first time it was as if she regarded him as a human being, rather than filth that had the nerve to stain her house. She cleared her throat and said, "Look, I don't like you and you don't like me. That is not going to change, and I don't want it to. But you have done your chores and stayed out of our way. So think of this as a compromise. If you continue this submission, I will keep Dudley and Vernon away from you and you can have more food. Do you accept?"

Mind whirling, he struggled to interpret her offer. Aunt Petunia, playing nice. Perhaps it was a Death Eater impersonating her. Numb, he replied, "I accept Aunt. Thank you."

Drawing herself up, she nodded coldly and said, "Good. Remember, this doesn't change anything. Now go to your room."

It was after he closed the door that he realised that he had been holding his breath.

_**That was unexpected.**_

_No kidding._

_**Considering that we have the day off and stuck in her all day, you might as well do the homework.**_

_You sound like Hermione. Fine. What homework first?_

_**Potions. Get the most difficult one out of the way first.**_

_Dear God, I hate you._

Pulling his textbooks from his trunk, he sat at his small desk and began the difficult task of writing Snape's essay on poisons and their effectiveness.

_**I can help with this. Voldemort enjoyed this particular area of Potions. I can remember this exactly. Perfect recall.**_

_Sure, that you be great._

It was around six when he heard the sounds of cars pulling up in front of the house. Aunt Petunia had already given him his dinner, a surprisingly large plate of spaghetti Bolognese. He had quietly thanked her and she left without saying a word. He could hear the murmurs of voice from downstairs and he knew that Uncle Vernon's potential business investors had arrived.

His homework lay finished in his trunk, the fruits of almost six hours labour. For once, he felt that his effort was exceptionally better than usual. Most likely because he had done it during the day, rather than the dead of night.

_Let's hope that Snape finds it acceptable._

_**I am almost certain he will find some fault. Mainly because it was written by you. Your handwriting has definitely improved though. Kudos.**_

_I have been writing no stop. I would like to think something improved. Do you think Ron's done his homework?_

_**Please. Last minute Weasley? I highly doubt it. This year you really should apply yourself. Show up Hermione.**_

_She won't like that._

_**Who cares? Its OWL year and you need the best results possible. You don't need to hold yourself back. I'm sure McGonagall would be impressed.**_

_That would make a change._

_**Speaking of Ron and Hermione, they don't seem keen on keeping contact with you, do they?**_

Harry glared at the offending letters that lay in front of him. If he had wanted vague facts and half-promises, he would have read the Daily Prophet. Sirius too, was being frustrating, he had always viewed his godfather as a person to never hide secrets from him, but apparently that had changed.

_They better have a good reason._

_**Maybe. You should guard yourself. Trust no one. Maybe make some new friends so you aren't as reliant on them.**_

_The idea has merit, but why should I listen to you? You'll just break through when I'm vulnerable._

_**Why do you keep arguing this? I AM you. With the flaws removed.**_

_Don't flatter yourself. You were a piece of Voldemort._

_**Who is an exceptionally powerful wizard. You can't deny it.**_

_I can and I will. You will not take over._

_**Take over what? We share the same body and the same mind. I've been helping you recently, haven't you noticed?**_

_So you healed me and fixed my eyesight, big deal. Only because it affects you as well._

_**Actually, I've been keeping your emotions in line. You haven't gotten angry or frustrated recently have you? No. That is me, keeping your head clear and calm. What thanks do I get? None. **_

Standing up from the desk, Harry strode around the room, trying to work of some of the pent up frustration. Frustration at his friends, Sirius, Dumbledore and frustration at the voice in his head. He could remember where it all began. At first it was a nudge. A small push that lay hidden in his very consciousness. He likened it to someone knocking at a door. In tense situations, times of anger or fear, the knocking became louder and persistent. He never answered the door, simply because he was scared of what he would let in if he did. It was something dark, something powerful; it was something that had no business existing on this earth. No, Harry Potter, was not a normal boy, even for a wizard.

When he was a child, the knocking barely existed. It was brief, just a flicker of movement. It came and went, even when Aunt Petunia slapped him and berated him, or when Uncle Vernon tried to beat the freakishness out of him for anything strange that occurred, which he now knew to be cases of accidental magic. He tried not to adopt his relatives' opinion of him, but when you hear the words 'freak', 'worthless' and 'nothing' almost every day of your life, it becomes hard not to accept it. Even now, at fifteen years of age, in his darkest moments, the words throb through his mind and he believes them. It was at these times, the knocking became more apparent, as if it wanted to interrupt his self-loathing thoughts.

When he woke after his nightmares of Voldemort, unknown at the time, there would always be a solid pounding at his mental door. He would clutch his head and the sound would eventually fade, but not after leaving him drained, as if he had done an enormous piece of magic. When he first started Hogwarts, he had to approach the door for the first time. To use magic, he had to open the door just a fraction and the he would perform the spell. At school, there would be times where the knocking would almost cease to exist, but appear vehemently when Malfoy or Snape were being particularly antagonistic. He almost came to expect it, such as when Uncle Vernon would roar and brandish his belt, he would wait for the bashing at the door. When Snape sneered in disdain at him, he would wait for the familiar sound. Harry often wondered how the door had not been broken down before now.

Sometimes, he ponders what lies beyond that mental door. Is it magic? He suspected that when he is grievously injured and no longer has the strength to stand, let alone fight, that the door opens just a fraction and something seeps out. But instead of hurting him, it soothes him, heals his injuries. Why it would care is beyond him, but Harry believes that they share the same body, and whatever lies beyond the door, wants the body to remain intact.

Perhaps it has something to do with the time he destroyed Voldemort. Perhaps that interaction left something on him, something dirty and contaminating. Yet not so evil that it would let him suffer. He needs what lies behind the door to use magic, yet he cannot let it all out, because he doesn't know what else may be let in.

His fourth year and the accompanying Triwizard Tournament was a particularly testing time for him. After his name was pulled from the Goblet of Fire, his friends abandoned him, teachers were suspicious and the knocking was constant. During the three Tasks, the pounding at his mental door would beat at the same time as his heart, almost as if there was another person, another Harry, living inside him.

But that door that separated him and the other-Harry vanished that night at the graveyard. The flash of green light, Cedric's lifeless body. Wormtail tying him to the tombstone and taking his blood. Through all of it, the door was pounded upon, the sound desperate and pleading. But the moment that Voldemort touched his face, a sneer upon the snakelike visage, the door burst open. The fury of a demon instantly possessed him. His original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from his body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, thrilled every fibre of his frame. Ripping free of his bindings, he picked up his wand and flung the most unfathomable pieces of magic at the Dark Lord, who appeared taken aback at such ferocity.

At some point, their wands connected and he saw his parents. They whispered words of encouragement, telling him to get to the portkey, go back to Hogwarts. Cedric asking to take his body back to be buried. Breaking the connection, the other-Harry ran and took both himself and Cedric back to Hogwarts. As soon as he landed back in the maze, the other-Harry disappeared, fled back behind the door. As he lay in the hospital wing after telling Dumbledore everything, with his mind addled with dreamless sleep potion, the door vanished forever and he heard the voice that would become his companion forever.

_**Remembering when we first met, are we? It was so beautiful. You were terrified.**_

_I heard a voice inside my head. How do you think I would feel?_

_**Good point.**_

Pulling himself from his musing, Harry became aware of how late it was. The cars at the front of the house had disappeared and the moon was high in the sky. There were muffled sounds from downstairs and the sound of something shattering, followed by a shriek. He stood up, pulling his wand from his pocket. Loud thudding noises became apparent, someone was running up the stairs. His bedroom door burst open and his Uncle stormed in, face purple and contorted with rage. The scent of alcohol was almost overpowering, Harry fought the urge to gag.

His uncle's piggy eyes were darting across the room, moving from his face, to the empty plate of his desk, to the wand in his hand. Upon seeing the thin piece of wood, it seemed to enrage him further and with a bellow, charged at Harry. The sudden speed surprised Harry and he felt himself being slammed into the wall behind him. His healing ribs screeched in protest and his glasses flew off in the force. From there, Vernon proceeded to beat every inch of Harry he could get his hands on. His arms, chest, face, back, Vernon was relentless.

_**Let me out!**_

There was blood everywhere. His bones were jarred and shifted, broken and dislocated.

_**LET ME OUT! HE'S GOING TO KILL YOU! LET ME OUT!**_

But Harry simply didn't have the strength to resist his Uncle and the voice. He fell into unconsciousness, the darkness comforting and peaceful. The last thing he was aware of was his aunt's terrified face standing in the doorway, her hand covering her mouth at the sight of his broken body.

_**** A few moments earlier ****_

_*** Aunt Petunia's POV ***_

Their evening had begun nicely. The guests had arrived and the conversation was pleasant. She had cooked up a fine meal served in her best plates and eaten with her best cutlery. For once she was relieved that she did not have to worry about the boy, he had agreed to stay out of their way for the night. His behaviour recently had puzzled her greatly. While she frequently called him a layabout, she knew it was not true. Truthfully, Petunia did not see the need to have the grass cut every day or the attic to be dusted frequently. At first she gave him those jobs purely out of spite, the child had reminded her so much of Lily, she wanted to punish him to get back at those times Lily had stolen their parents affections. While she had resisted him attending Hogwarts and joined in her husband's efforts to stamp out the freakishness, she was glad to see the back of him for nine months of the year. He never returned for the Christmas and Easter holidays, for which she was grateful, but she knew that he had no desire to return to this house either. Vernon despised the boy, he viewed him as filth, scum, degenerate, or whatever words would please him. She knew her husband took great delight in beating the boy, something she had condoned because she believed discipline would set the boy straight.

But even she was not blind to the bruises that littered the boy's face or how he gingerly walked around the house, trying not to aggravate cracked ribs. She had dismissed it at first, he still remained that child, the one who reminded her so much of Lily. But this summer, she knew something had changed. He was no longer a child, but had the look of a young man who had seen too much of the world. His eyes, no longer the sparkling life-filled emeralds she was taunted with in her dreams of regret, but dead, desolate and strangely enough, an even more vivid green, like something had been burnt over them.

She knew the boy had seen something over his school year, and she was curious, but did not care. Dudley was more important to her, he had brought letters home saying he was still bullying younger children and that he was far too overweight. She could not see the horrible things the teachers said, so she ignored that too. But the boy… He had been avoiding the family, as Vernon preferred, and done the chores, as he was told. Something akin to pity had warmed inside her and she did not have the bitterness to berate him on anything. When she had woken up this morning, he was already up and preparing breakfast. This surprised her, she usually woke him. Vernon too was surprised at this, but knowing him, thought nothing of it. Petunia had given the boy a list and made him collect groceries. When he returned, she noticed he was not wearing his glasses. When he looked at her with his vivid, bleak eyes, his pale face contrasted to his raven hair, she had been shocked. His face had been hauntingly beautiful; lovely but broken. The sight of it stirred the pity once more and she had allowed him food and offered him an agreement. True to his word, he had kept to it.

The meal was undisturbed, she had laughed at the least funny jokes and made sure everyone's glass was full, like the hostess she had trained herself to be. Petunia then noticed that Vernon was getting drunker and drunker as the night went on, and from experience, she knew he could easily lose his temper. Which he did. One of the guests had accidently spilt wine over Vernon's best dinner jacket. Petunia watched in horror as Vernon shouted and stormed at the man, whose face indicated that he was not impressed. At the last minute, Vernon had realised what he had done and tried to laugh it off, but the damage was done. The guests had quietly got up, thanking her for the meal, and left.

She could feel Vernon's anger, still simmering from the spilt wine, but also at the realisation that he had lost the biggest potential deal of his career. He turned to her and snarled, "Where's the boy?"

Petunia blinked. "The boy?"

Vernon's face swelled. "Yes, the boy! Where is he?"

"He's in his room, Vernon, but what does he have to do with anything?"

Her husband began pacing, his meaty fingers twisting as if he wanted to wrap them around someone's neck. "The boy has everything to do with it, Petunia. He probably did something freakish, turned the food bad or even did something to the guests! It's his fault this happened!" he snapped at her.

Even Petunia, as biased as she was against him, knew that the boy had not done anything. "Vernon, the boy has been upstairs all day. I cooked all of the food, you say that yourself. I told him to stay out of the way and he did. He didn't do anything."

A small part of Petunia's brain was questioning why she was defending the boy, but she felt the inexplicable need to protect that broken piece of beauty she saw earlier today. At her words, Vernon turned white, then flashed dark with rage. "HE'S DONE SOMETHING TO YOU TOO, HASN'T HE? HIM AND HIS FREAKISHNESS!"

He had grabbed a plate and threw it in a fit of uncontrollable rage. Petunia was unable to prevent the shriek from escaping her mouth. She collapsed into the nearest chair, her body racked with tremors of fear of what Vernon would do next. She barely noticed that he had left the room and was running up the stairs. She listened to the sound of thumping and it wasn't until there was a sickening crack that she jolted back to life. Petunia darted upstairs and almost threw up at the sight of the boy's bedroom. There was blood everywhere, staining the walls and the floorboards. Vernon was bellowing incoherently, while Harry was silent. The boy's face was ruined, his ribs and chest bones bent at horrific angles. Her hand went to her face as she struggled not to empty her stomach. Vernon's rage was blinding him, she knew that her husband would not stop until the boy was dead. Lily's eyes, no, Harry's eyes met her own and she caught the barest flicker of life in the glazed depths. Those eyes darkened and Petunia knew he had fallen unconscious. Vernon did not stop, however, continuing to beat the boy for another five minutes until his anger faded. Gasping for breath, he looked down at the mess of blood and bone, snorted in derision and walked out of the room. As he reached her, he whispered, "Don't worry, Petunia, he won't ever do anything freakish again."

Petunia heard their bedroom door close and she cautiously stepped towards the boy lying on the blood soaked floor. As gently as possible, she placed a hand over his heart, checking for his heartbeat. It was there, faint, but still working. With a satisfied nod, she walked back out of the room. The boy would heal, he always did.

As Petunia dressed herself for bed and joined her already slumbering husband, she began to wonder if the boy could heal all that damage. She shook her head and went to sleep, thinking that she would get the boy to clean up the mess tomorrow.

_**** End of Chapter 1 ****_


	2. Chapter 2

_**He had always noticed it. A small presence in the back of his mind. Small, but not easily ignored. But with the Dark Lord's return, it has become more demanding, pushing at his sanity. He will not surrender to its whispers, its promises of fulfilled desires. But in the end, he may not want to fight anymore. After all, we all go a little mad sometimes. Except that when the Boy Who Lived does, the consequences are significantly huger.**_

_****** Chapter 2 ******_

"_**It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane."**_

Darkness.

It swirled around him, but instead of fear, he felt comforted. This place had a familiar feel to it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a flash, light reflecting off glass.

He gingerly walked towards it, his pace slow and cautious.

Then he reached it.

In front of him, stood a mirror.

It was tall, polished and elegant.

Simple, yet tasteful.

As he peered into, his reflection began to form.

It was not what he expected.

His reflection was the same height, same stature. His skin was white as paper, hair as dark as a blackboard. But what made him pause was his reflection's face. It was a curious sight, particularly the slitted red eyes. His reflection grinned, revealing a mouth full of pointed teeth.

"_**So, we finally meet, face to face. Here, in the fractured landscape that is your tortured mind."**_

"_Why am I looking at you through a mirror? What happened to the door theory?"_

"_**How the hell should I know? It's your mind. I'm not responsible for anything here. Your subconscious created this as a refuge, a place for your sanity to flee to, should you become too damaged."**_

"_So, Uncle Vernon beating us to death was the cause of this."_

"_**I imagine so. As for the 'door' idea, I imagine that once it opened, it never closed. I can only guess that the mirror originated from you brief obsession with the Mirror of Erised."**_

"_I assume that this mirror is much more symbolic than that."_

"_**You assume correctly. This mirror reflects your sanity, your mental stability. The fact that you see me, rather than your own reflection, is something to be concerned about."**_

Harry took a step back and looked peered at the polished glass. Even in the dark, he was able to see the numerous cracks that ran across the mirror's face.

"_**The cracks are the attacks on your mind. Any damage, be it physical, emotional or psychological, damages a person's sanity. Many of these cracks repair themselves over time, but some cannot ever be removed."**_

"_So because of your presence as a part of Voldemort's soul, as well as my delightful childhood at the hands of the Dursleys, my mirror is cracked beyond repair."_

"_**That is a fairly reasonable assumption to make. With that much strain on your mind, it's remarkable that the mirror didn't shatter entirely from a young age."**_

"_But what about now? If anything, I feel even more weak and fragile. Wouldn't the mirror be even more likely to break?"_

"_**I do not know. But you should know this. This mirror separates us. This mirror keeps me from taking control."**_

"_Great. So my mental stability is the only thing keeping you at bay? That's reassuring."_

"_**If it's any consolation, many other teenagers would have given up by now."**_

"_I need to know this. I'm here now, and I don't know when I will regain consciousness. I need to know what my own mind is shielding me from. Tell me. What the hell are you?"_

"_**I am you. With the flaws removed."**_

"_So you keep saying. You were a part of Voldemort, yet you claim to be me. Explain."_

The reflection appeared to sigh, his vivid red eyes, so unlike Harry's own, appeared almost sympathetic and weary.

"_**On the night that Lord Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow to kill you, and your mother cast herself between you, the curse rebounded. This you know, yes?"**_

Harry merely nodded and the reflection took a deep breath.

"_**As it did so, a part of Voldemort's soul latched itself onto the only living thing it could find. And that turned out to be you."**_

"_Then surely you wouldn't an imitation of me. You would be Voldemort. You would have taken me over. Possessed me, or something."_

"_**I imagine that was the original intent, but your mother's protection, along with your already powerful magical core, would have prevented possession."**_

"_But how did you come to be? How did you come to be this copy of me, yet still retain Voldemort's memories, his knowledge, and his skill?"_

"_**Your magic is something very unusual. From what I can only guess, your magic destroyed the Voldemort presence and absorbed the soul piece. Therefore obtaining a large amount of knowledge and power. From this, I was created."**_

"_It still doesn't explain WHO you are."_

"_**Most people in the wizarding world differentiate themselves between Light and Dark. You have the potential to be both. Your magic knows this, so it created me to provide a balance. I am Dark, you are Light."**_

"_Yet we are the same."_

"_**Yes. Now you understand. When I kept telling you that I was you, I was right."**_

"_I don't believe you. You can't be me. You're Dark. You aren't even like me!"_

"_**Really? You're going to argue that because I'm Dark, I'm evil, and the great Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, can't be evil? I expected this sort of prejudice from Weasley and Malfoy, but not from you."**_

"_Shut up. You know nothing of me."_

"_**Fool! I live in your head! I have seen all your memories, your secrets, your wishes. I should know who you are, because I am all your darkest wishes and emotions come to life."**_

"_What?"_

"_**You heard me. I am your anger, your rage, your hatred. I am your fear, your cruelty, your malice. I am your lust, your pride, your blackest aspirations. Without me, you would be a shell, an empty husk. A boy who lost everything at the hands of his relatives. Without me, you wouldn't have survived those years before Hogwarts. I saved you! You survived because of me!"**_

"_No, it's not true."_

"_**That whole crap with the Philosopher's Stone? That was me. Quirrel would have killed you. I revived your mother's protection! It was because of me that he burnt to death, not you!"**_

"_No, it was my magic!"_

"_**Who do you think can access such power? Me. Chamber of Secrets? I stabbed the Basilisk. I destroyed the diary."**_

"_Stop it."_

"_**Do you really think a thirteen year old boy could have driven off hundreds of Dementors? No, I gave you more magic."**_

"_Stop it!"_

"_**Triwizard Tournament? All me. You may have done the flying, but it was I who Summoned the Firebolt. I kept us alive in the Black Lake. I fought off all the enchantments, curses and traps in the godforsaken maze! You may think you did it by yourself, but you could not. I was there, every step of the way."**_

"_ENOUGH!"_

There was a loud crack as the mirror in front of him split gruesomely. Both Harry and the reflection were stunned into silence, Harry horrified, the reflection wary.

"_**You know it's all true. If it wasn't, the mirror wouldn't have been affected. You pretend that your just Harry, and most of your experiences were just luck, but you know there was something more."**_

"_It's not true. I can't be evil."_

"_**Whoever said that you were?"**_

"_You did! You said that you were me and that you were Dark!"_

"_**Being Dark isn't evil, you imbecile. That's Dumbledore talk. And I will have none of it."**_

"_I will never be Dark."_

"_**But you were Dark. You went Dark to save yourself from Voldemort that night in the graveyard. And that is nothing to be ashamed of."**_

"_I don't want to hear this anymore. I want to wake up."_

"_**Are you really that dim-witted? If you wake in up in the state that your body is in now, you'll die."**_

"_I'd rather die than listen to you."_

"_**Don't be so dramatic. I have a very calm and soothing voice."**_

"_I hate you."_

"_**No, you don't. You just don't want to admit that I'm right."**_

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, which involved Harry glaring into the mirror and the reflection looking broodingly back. Harry suddenly stiffened and the mirror cracked once again.

"_Have you been posing as me? Do my friends even know who I am?'_

"_**I have never posed as you Harry. You made friends on your own. However, I really think you should get some more though."**_

"_But everything else was a lie. You did it all. I deluded myself to thinking I was special, that I was capable of doing something good. But it seems like I was just as worthless as the Dursleys said."_

While Harry was speaking, the mirror suddenly began to shake violently. He didn't notice, but the reflection's eyes flashed with worry.

"_**Harry, just calm down for a second."**_

"_They were right, I am worthless. A boy tricked into thinking he was something good. I should never have come to Hogwarts. Maybe things would be different."_

The mirror was rattling in its frame by now; the existing cracks were splitting even further.

"_**Harry, listen to me."**_

"_I should have died that night in Godric's Hollow."_

"_**Harry, don't say it."**_

"_I should have let Voldemort kill me."_

"_**Please, don't say what you're thinking."**_

It was if the universe itself stopped. The mirror had stopped vibrating, but the reflection was looking at Harry with a mixture overwhelming fear and a wretched pity.

"_I am a freak."_

And the mirror shattered. It exploded outwards and Harry was thrown back by an invisible force, yelling in shock and pain. Climbing to his feet, he saw the shattered glass lying on the ground. He gently picked one up and flinched as it turned to sand in his hands. One at a time, he picked up each broken piece, watching helplessly as each faded in front of him. There was only one piece that didn't break and as Harry looked into it, he could see the red eyes of the reflection.

The eyes flashed suddenly and Harry dropped the glass piece as though burned. He stepped back, terrified, as the glass melted into a puddle of liquid. From the depths, Harry watched as a hand breached the surface and the body of his reflection began to emerge.

The reflection stood motionless, his head bowed. Harry treaded forwards cautiously, but at the sound, the reflection looked up and looked at him sorrowfully.

"_**You know what this means, don't you?"**_

Harry shook his head, his insides clenching in fear and anticipation.

"_**You broke your own sanity and allowed me through. You truly are extraordinary Harry Potter. Any lesser man, wizard or Muggle, would have died."**_

"_What happens now then?"_

"_**We take Voldemort and burn him to the ground. We will avenge your parents, Cedric and countless others that have fallen at his hand."**_

"_But that's what was going to happen anyway, wasn't it?"_

"_**No. This time, we do it our way. This time we will show him what it is like to lose everything that matters to him. We will let him know, that as his regime burns and his Death Eaters brought to ashes and his own miserable life ends, that Harry Potter is the one who is doing this to him."**_

"_No more mercy."_

The reflection grinned, pointed teeth gleaming.

"_**Harry, I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful partnership."**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Much of this chapter was taken from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix but I don't own any of that…**_

_**He had always noticed it. A small presence in the back of his mind. Small, but not easily ignored. But with the Dark Lord's return, it has become more demanding, pushing at his sanity. He will not surrender to its whispers, its promises of fulfilled desires. But in the end, he may not want to fight anymore. After all, we all go a little mad sometimes. Except that when the Boy Who Lived does, the consequences are significantly huger.**_

_******Chapter 3******_

"_**There is a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line."**_

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the so-called 'Golden Boy of Gryffindor', was curled up in the corner of his room, knees crushed against his chest. His uncle's latest beating had almost killed him, but by some miracle, which he was beginning to suspect as magic, kept him alive. His body had escaped permanent damage, but it was his mind that suffered the most scars. And Harry was furious with himself. He had survived being bitten by a Basilisk, almost had his soul sucked out by hundreds of Dementors and has almost died at the hands of Voldemort, yet he was so easily beaten by his Muggle uncle.

_**That was not your fault, you know.**_

_Whose fault was it then?_

_**It was Vernon's fault. You had done nothing wrong and he had beaten you regardless. The fact you are still alive amazes me.**_

_I hadn't done anything and yet he still beats me almost to death. Aunt Petunia said she would keep him away._

_**She lied, Harry. Simple as that. You can't trust anyone.**_

_Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Dumbledore, they don't care, do they? If they did, they wouldn't have left me here._

_**I can't tell you that Harry. I've seen your memories, and I know you're fond of them, but I can't tell you what they think.**_

_Do you think they will come before the end of summer?_

_**I don't know.**_

Harry leaned back against the wall. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and was curious at the sight. His injuries were still evident on his skin, so vivid in fact, that even Dudley blanched at the sight of him when he came to taunt him earlier. He had been refusing food, and his already malnourished body was wasting even further away. Considering that he didn't eat much in 4 Privet Drive as it was, it didn't make much difference.

The day after his beating, Aunt Petunia had woken him and ordered that he clean the blood of the floor. Still numb with pain and exhaustion, he did as he was told; despite the fact the task aggravated his injuries even further, to which he later passed out in agony. Thankfully, Uncle Vernon had not paid him another visit and he didn't think his mind would be able to handle the crushing recollection that the sight would bring. His aunt had brought him food, but he could not eat it, his stomach was destroyed. She had taken it as ungratefulness and did not bring up food again. That was nearly two weeks ago. He had tried to explain to her, but his vocal cords were still being repaired at the time.

_**You know, you can speak now. I finished repairing the muscles.**_

_I prefer not to. Silence is bliss._

_**That's ignorance. Ignorance is bliss. But I completely agree.**_

There was the sound of his bedroom door being opened, but he did not acknowledge it, only watched as Hedwig soared towards his open window. She lighted upon the sill and hooted in greeting.

"Boy." That was his aunt's voice. "Boy, look at me."

He turned towards her, not meeting her eyes. She was staring at him in a mixture of disgust and restraint. "We are going out. You are not to leave your bedroom while we are away. You are not to touch the television, the stereo, or any of our possessions. You are not to steal food from the fridge. I am going to lock your door."

He shrugged and turned back to Hedwig who was still gazing at him intently. A gentle smile crossed his face at the sight of her. He was distantly aware that Aunt Petunia had locked the door and left. Harry could faintly hear the sound of the car sweeping out of the driveway.

_**One truly is the loneliest number.**_

Hedwig flew over and perched on his knees, staring into his eyes with something that looked like concern. He stroked her feathers gently, and her eyes closed at the feeling. He was unsure for how long he sat there, stroking Hedwig, alone with his thoughts. The room grew steadily darker around him and he found he could not even sum up the energy to get up and turn on the bedroom light.

_**Someone's in the house.**_

The stairs creaked as someone walked up them, but Harry found that he didn't care. Ever since the Vernon incident, as he referred to it, he found that he only had enough strength left inside him to survive.

_**Living is overrated.**_

The door creaked open, and he glanced at the figures standing in the doorway, before turning his attention back to Hedwig.

"Harry?" The voice sounded like Remus Lupin, but Harry found he couldn't care who it was.

"We don't know it's him, Lupin," said a low, growling voice. It sounded familiar, but the last time he had heard that voice, it had been from an insane Death Eater impersonating a teacher.

_**I think that is the real Alastor Moody.**_

_Who cares?_

_**Fair enough.**_

"That has to be Harry, Alastor. Hedwig would know him after all." Lupin's voice seemed very far away.

_**Crap, looks like you're bleeding again.**_

_Where from?_

_**Where Vernon tore open the old scars from before. I tried to seal them, but they need proper healing. I'm not perfect.**_

"Harry, come on. We've come to take you away from here."

Harry looked at Hedwig, who nodded and leapt from his knees to her perch. He stood up, moving completely silent, and glanced at the people standing in the hallway outside his bedroom.

_Has the blood leaked through my shirt?_

_**It's not a heavy bleed, but a substantial one. You should let them know.**_

_Eh, who cares?_

_**Your choice of course.**_

Hedwig hooted and Harry felt the familiar weight settle upon his shoulder. A wand tip flared, illuminating the hall with magical light. There were a few gasps as his appearance came into full view. Bruises still mottled his face and neck, accompanied by deep and still trickling cuts.

_Were those gasps of disgust or shock?_

_**You truly are broken Harry Potter. I wonder if you'll ever be able to put yourself back together again.**_

Moody's voice, surprisingly gentle, came from his left. "Come on, Potter, let's get you out of here."

Ignoring the people in the hall, Harry unerringly made his way down the stairs. He made no sound, not one creak of a floorboard or a squeak of stair, but the other people did. He glanced at them to see that one of them was carrying his trunk. He raised his eyebrow at the bald, black wizard, who caught his look and quietly muttered in a deep, slow voice, "All your stuff has been packed away, we made sure to get everything."

_**How generous of them to go snooping. I wonder what they expected to find. Copies of Playwizard? They clearly don't know you very well.**_

"Harry, are you alright?" Lupin sounded worried, perhaps because he hadn't said a word since they arrived. He shrugged and opened the front door. Stepping outside for the first time in months wasn't as liberating as he once thought it was. Perhaps because he stopped caring. He heard hurried mutters behind him and caught up with the heated discussion.

"Mad-Eye, look at him! There's blood all over him and I can tell his bones have been broken and not set properly. It's not safe for him to fly. We'll have to Apparate." Lupin sounded furious and pleading at the same time. Moody was just furious. "Lupin, pull yourself together! He's too young to Apparate and it could blow the whole mission!"

"He needs serious medical attention, Mad-Eye! If we wait any longer it may cause permanent damage!"

"Fine! Do what you want! You can explain to Dumbledore."

Moody stumped towards Harry and waved Hedwig off his shoulder. Harry glared at the scarred man, who looked slightly taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. The ex-Auror quickly recovered and growled, "Animals can't Apparate, Potter. Your bird will need to fly to our location."

Harry glanced up and saw Hedwig circling above his head, who waiting for confirmation. He nodded his understanding at Moody and waited until the others had lined up alongside them.

An unfamiliar young woman spoke then. "Why was there blood everywhere?"

Harry turned away from the group, staring across the road at the houses opposite. For the first time in two weeks, he spoke. "My relatives aren't exactly fond of me."

His voice sounded harsh to his own ears, but since he was turned away, he did not notice the flinches from the others who were listening. Moody then clasped his shoulder roughly and he hissed in pain.

_**Damn it. I just reset that shoulder. He's only gone and moved it again.**_

_Is it broken? Feels like it._

_**No, it's only dislocated, I'll realign it once were get to wherever it is we're going.**_

Moody turned on his heel and Harry suddenly felt like he was being squeezed through a very narrow tube. The sensation was interesting and not entirely pleasant. Looking around he noticed that they were in a dingy and dirty part of London. Moody then turned and whispered, "Think of the words, number 12 Grimmauld Place."

And as soon as he did, a house materialised out of the ground and slotted into place beside numbers 11 and 13. He slowly approached the front door and opened it cautiously, its hinges protesting with age. Harry was conscious of the people behind him, but he found that he did not care. The odd company walked down the hallway where they were met by Mrs Weasley, whose face paled considerably at the sight of Harry's bruised and bloodstained face.

_**Oh, that reminds me. Let's reset that shoulder.**_

There was an audible crack in which everyone but Harry flinched at the sound of. He rotated his shoulder a few times, testing its range of movement.

_**I trust it meets your standards, my lord?**_

_Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit you know. But thank you._

Mrs Weasley was the first to regain her sense of speech. "Harry, it's lovely to see you, but what happened to you?"

When he didn't reply, she turned to Lupin. "Remus, what happened, were you attacked on the way here?"

Lupin shook his head. "No, Molly, we found Harry like this at his relatives' house."

Mrs Weasley did not have time to respond as the door behind her banged open and Harry's least favourite teacher at Hogwarts strolled through. At the sight of Lupin, Snape's lip curled but upon laying eyes on Harry, he sneered. Harry stared openly back, before nodding. "Professor."

If Snape was taken aback by his guttural voice, he did not show it. Instead he merely inclined his head and replied, "Potter." He then turned to the others. "The meeting is just about to begin; I suggest you take your seats."

Mrs Weasley made to protest and gestured towards Harry, but Snape held up a hand stopping her. In a bored voice he said, "I'm sure that since Potter survived the summer in such a condition, he can survive a few hours more." His black eyes met Harry's green ones and there was a flicker of what Harry thought looked like understanding. In truth, Harry did not want Mrs Weasley smothering him and Snape, somehow, seemed to realise that. Mrs Weasley looked like she wanted to argue, but held her tongue. Instead, she turned to Harry and whispered, "Ron and Hermione are just upstairs, Harry. Straight up, first door on your right."

Harry nodded at her and headed up the winding stairs. He noticed how quiet the whole house was, it was if it was in mourning for some beloved relative. He paused outside the door in which he knew Ron and Hermione were waiting, but he found that he did not want to see them.

_**Probably because they have been almost ignoring you all summer.**_

_I'm sure they have a good reason._

_**You keep telling yourself that. Come on, let's find somewhere quiet. Perhaps the top floor?**_

_That sounds fabulous._

Downstairs in the basement kitchen, the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix was beginning. Many of the members were already seated; Snape, Mrs Weasley and the Advance Guard quickly took their place at the dark wooden table. Albus Dumbledore sat at its head, stroking his silvery white beard absentmindedly. As the final person sat down, Dumbledore looked up and nodded gravely.

"I'm glad to see that your mission to retrieve Harry was successful. No problems were there?"

There was murmur of discomfort at the question. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at Moody, who growled. "Ask Lupin. He's the one who wanted to Apparate the boy here."

At hearing this, Dumbledore frowned. "What does he mean, Remus? You were meant to travel by broom from Harry's relatives' house."

Lupin's face hardened and spoke, but not before glancing at Sirius Black who was now focusing intently on him. "Harry needed immediate medical attention. Which I point out, he has not yet received."

There was a loud screeching of a chair being pushed back violently. Sirius had jumped to his feet. "What are you talking about Remus? Harry was hurt? Why hasn't he received healing yet?"

Lupin looked gravely at Sirius and replied, "We haven't had a chance to fully identify his injuries yet. But we could all tell that he had several bones broken and was bleeding quite a lot. We were just in the hall and he realigned his shoulder. Like it was something that happened frequently and it was no worth pointing out."

Dumbledore had remained silent through this. His electric blue eyes had lost their spark, and for a few seconds, he looked like a very old man. Sighing deeply, he quietly asked, "Remus, please, how is Harry, apart from the injuries?"

Remus hesitated before replying. He knew that what he was about to say would deeply affect the people in the room, especially Sirius. Squaring his shoulders, he said, "He looked broken. He didn't speak to us when we first arrived, but when Tonks asked him about the blood all over his bedroom; he told her that magic didn't exist in that house. Even his voice sounded shattered, I doubt he hadn't spoken in weeks. It's like… he's dead inside."

The kitchen was still and silent. Sirius was expecting Snape to make a mocking comment, but the man appeared unsettled at Remus's declaration. The Order of the Phoenix sat at the kitchen table in uncomfortable tension; no one knew what to say next. Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "Perhaps it would be best to bring Harry down here to assess his injuries. Molly, would you mind…?"

Mrs Weasley got up from the table and left the room. As she left, the occupants of the room fell into uneasy conversation, which ended as Mrs Weasley came tearing back into the room, white faced. "Harry wasn't with Ron and Hermione. He could be anywhere in this house."

Everyone on the table immediately leapt to their feet and darted out of the dingy kitchen. "Quick, Moony, we need to check every room, who knows what foul magic lurks in this god-forsaken house!" shouted Sirius. The Order members hurried from room to room, calling Harry's name.

Curled up in a corner on the top floor of the house, Harry smirked at the sound of panic and worry downstairs.

_You would think that the world was ending the way that they are acting._

_**To them it probably is. What would they do without Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived?**_

_Probably just keel over and surrender._

_**Or Ron Weasley becomes the next hero.**_

Perhaps it was just the sarcasm, or maybe just the circumstances of the situation, but Harry began to laugh. It was not his normal laugh, light-hearted and infectious, but an insane cackle that echoed throughout the entire house. **(A.N. If any of you have heard Mark Hamill as the Joker in the animated Batman series, imagine his laugh as Harry's.) **As he laughed breathlessly and unrelentingly, Grimmauld Place appeared to shiver and rumble, as if waking from a deep slumber. The candles that adorned the walls sprang into life, and with a breeze, the dust in the house flew off, leaving gleaming furniture behind. Harry eventually reigned in control of himself, a small giggle escaping every now and then.

_**That was terrifying. I didn't realise what **__**I said was so funny.**_

_It wasn't. Perhaps it was a whole multitude of things._

There was a loud thudding as someone came running up the stairs. Harry merely glanced as the pink haired woman, whose name he did not know, jumped at the sight of him before yelling down the staircase. "I've found him! He's alright!"

Cautiously, the unnamed woman came towards him, a small smile on her face. "We were never properly introduced. I'm Nymphadora Tonks, but I prefer to be known by my surname only. Wotcher Harry."

_**What kind of a mother would name their child Nymphadora?**_

Harry smirked and said, "Wotcher Tonks. What's with all the ruckus downstairs?"

Tonks' smiled faded slightly. "Professor Dumbledore wanted to see you and you weren't with your friends in the bedroom. Hence, the ruckus."

Harry stood up and made his way over to her. He patted Tonks' shoulder as he passed her on the way to the stairs. "No harm done. Just me being a typical teenager."

The pair made their way down to the first floor where Tonks led him to the small basement kitchen. As Harry entered, every head snapped in his direction and he watched as eyes widened, faces paled and mouths fall open. The sight was so amusing that he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

_**Good grief, perhaps you are insane.**_

_Pretty sure I was insane from the moment you and I started conversing._

_**Likely.**_

Dumbledore stood up quickly and asked, "Harry, my boy, what has happened to you?"

_**Let me take care of this.**_

_But of course._

Harry inclined his head sideways, as if in thought and replied, **"The same thing that has happened every summer since I went to Hogwarts, Headmaster."**

Dumbledore went pale at the statement before swiftly recovering. "Surely, you exaggerate Harry…"

"**No, I don't exaggerate. You think I did this to myself? Don't be stupid, Professor, it is unbecoming."**

Snape, who had remained quiet since Harry entered the room, sneered, "Mind that you respect your betters, Potter."

Harry sneered back, worthy of a Malfoy. **"Forgive me if I choose to insult those who believe me to lie."**

Dumbledore, sensing a confrontation, jumped in. "Now, now, let's all just calm down. Harry, tell us what happened. And a straight answer please."

Harry rolled his eyes. **"My cousin and uncle decided to inflict pain on my person. Merely for my existence, you understand."**

"But they are your family Harry. Surely they wouldn't…" But Dumbledore was cut off by the sound of Harry's laughter.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Harry replied, **"Surely you must know Dumbledore that being related doesn't always mean that there is automatic love. Don't be naïve."**

The room fell into silence again. After a few minutes of this, Harry asked in a bored tone, **"Is Madam Pomfrey around? I appear to be bleeding quite substantially over this nice clean floor."**

McGonagall was the first to recover. "No, she's not here Potter. However, Professor Snape knows several healing spells…"

"**No, that's quite alright. I will heal my injuries by myself."**

Snape stood up with a snarl. "Then why did you ask for Pomfrey if you could heal yourself? Do you enjoy wasting people's time, Potter?"

Still in the same bored tone, Harry answered, **"Madam Pomfrey and I have an understanding Professor. Patient confidentiality and all that. I can heal myself, but I'd rather she look it over. Does that satisfy you, **_**sir?**_**"**

Snape's face was growing red with anger, but Harry ignored him in favour of looking around the room. Many turned away from his gaze and he snorted in derision. **"Now if you will excuse me, I have some injuries to tend to and an interrogation to endure. Good night."**

Harry strolled out of the room unhindered and wandered up to the bedroom where he knew Ron and Hermione were waiting.

_**How about we shake them up a bit?**_

_I love the idea._

Turning his face into a scowl, Harry opened the door and strode into the room. There was a shriek with no doubt came from Hermione and a blur as she ran towards him. He quickly sidestepped her incoming hug and almost ruined the act by laughing as she almost fell. There was a flash of white as Hedwig alighted on his shoulder. **"Alright Hedwig? Safe journey?"**

Hedwig being an owl did not reply but merely hooted. Nevertheless Harry continued as if she answered him.

"**I'm sorry to hear that. Not to worry though, I'm sure there are plenty of male owls out there that would be lucky to have you."**

Hedwig nipped his ear in an indignant sort of way and he chuckled slightly. **"What's that? My injuries? I'd best have a look at them then. Let me know if I miss anything."**

Hedwig flew onto the empty bed and Harry pulled off his shirt in one swift movement, hissing as the fabric and air touched the bleeding wounds. There were gasps from the people in the room but none of them spoke.

_**Scared silent. I love it.**_

_It is rather unnerving, however._

_**No matter. Let's heal these injuries. Prepare yourself.**_

Harry let out a groan of pain as the cuts of his back began to knit together. His flesh crawled at feeling.

_**Excellent. Right, I'm putting you back in the driver's seat now. Try to not to embarrass yourself.**_

_Oh, ye of little faith._

Harry turned around to face his friends. Hermione was crying, Ron was white faced and looked nauseous. Harry grinned, spread his arms and said, "Surprise?"

Hermione gave a sob and made to hug him again, but he managed to catch her. Holding her at arm's length he whispered, "I appreciate your concern Hermione, but I did just have to knit my flesh back together, not to mention I have a series of recently cracked ribs. So forgive me if I don't desire any contact just yet."

She nodded, eyes swimming with fresh tears and stepped back to where Ron was standing.

_**Ask them about the letters.**_

"Speaking of contact, care to explain the lack from you?"

Ron and Hermione glanced at one another. Ron cleared his throat. "Mate, we wanted to write proper letters, but Dumbledore made us swear not to tell you anything."

_Huh. Looks like you were right._

_**Of course I was right. I'm me.**_

"So, let me get this straight. Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, told you not to tell me, your best friend, any information whatsoever?"

Hermione spoke up. "We wanted to tell you, we did, honest Harry!"

Harry rolled his eyes and replied, "Clearly you didn't. If you truly cared about me, you would have found a way."

"Dumbledore said that our letters could be intercepted," Ron said hotly.

"Don't be an idiot Ron. Voldemort isn't out in the open yet. You wouldn't be able to reveal the location of this house because you are not the Secret-Keeper. Yes, I know all about this place," he said, stalling Hermione's incoming question. "I know that this is the home of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. I know about the Fidelius Charm. Regardless, you still could have sent a letter via Muggle Post. Can't image Death Eaters watching that."

They both looked stunned, not to mention incredibly guilty.

_**You may have broken them.**_

_With what, logical reasoning?_

"You know, the future of our friendship lies in my hands right now."

Ron and Hermione both whitened at his words. "You… you can't be serious," was Ron's breathless response.

"I am deadly serious. I'll forgive you for this, but I can assure you, that if you pull anything like this again, I will never speak to you again."

They both visibly flinched, but nodded at the words.

"We're sorry Harry," Hermione said, "we just thought we were doing what was best for you."

Harry, who had turned away to unpack his trunk, merely shrugged.

_**That certainly put them in their place. Good work.**_

_Stop talking._

_**Certainly.**_

A small time later, the trio made their way downstairs to the kitchen where Mrs Weasley had called them for dinner. At the bottom of the stairs, there was a loud CRASH as Tonks fell over a hatstand in the hall. Anything said afterwards was lost in the screeching of a portrait that had appeared from behind a set of curtains. "FILTHY HALF-BREEDS, BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS –"

The screeching had awoken the other portraits in the hall, which then began yelling also, creating such a din that Harry felt his eardrums would burst. He jumped forwards towards the shrieking woman and bellowed, "ENOUGH!"

Somehow, his shout was heard amongst the chaos and the hallway fell silent. The woman in the portrait eyed him appraisingly, her eyes distasteful. Harry glared back and snapped, "What are you looking at, you miserable old hag?"

The woman recoiled and snarled. She took a deep breath to begin screaming again, but Harry drew his wand and with a BANG the curtains covered the portrait again. From behind him there was a clapping sound and Harry turned to see Sirius leaning on the doorway to the kitchen. "Most impressive Harry. You actually managed to shout my mother down. Even my own father couldn't do that."

He strode over and embraced Harry in a rough, one-armed hug. Harry cringed as his godfather's arms squeezed his ribs, but returned the hug. Sirius stepped back and looked him up and down, before clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You look more like your father everyday Harry," he said, leading him into kitchen. "You'll have to fend the hordes of women off with a stick! Believe me, with my irresistible good looks, I speak from experience."

Lupin, who was sitting opposite them on the table, eyes on the Daily Prophet said, "One woman does not count as a horde, Padfoot."

Sirius's face took an injured look. "You wound me Moony! I'll have you know that the women were clamouring for my attention."

Not looking up from the newspaper, Lupin replied, "I know that several women were after your blood when you snuck into the girl's changing rooms after that Quidditch match."

Sirius' eyes had taken on a glazed look and his mouth had twisted into a goofy smile. At Harry's questioning look, he said, "I had borrowed your father's invisibility cloak, but it slipped off when a wet, naked, Marlene McKinnon bumped into me."

Harry, who had been struggling for the past five minutes, burst into peals of laughter at Sirius's and Mrs Weasley's faces, the former still dazed, the latter scandalised. Sirius was broken out of his reverie by Mrs Weasley slamming down a plate of stew in front of him. "I'll thank you not to give Harry any ideas, Sirius Black; he gets into enough trouble at school as it is."

_**Not that kind of trouble. The trouble you get into usually involves life and death. Not angry girls chasing you for perving on them in the change rooms.**_

Harry, still chuckling, said, "That's an idea, thanks Sirius. I'll learn from your mistakes though and try not to walk into bare women."

Sirius howled with laughter and Lupin was unable to hide his chuckles. Mrs Weasley glared equally at all three of them and stalked off muttering something that suspiciously sounded like "Men", "Hormones", and "No respect".

Wiping his eyes, Harry dug into the food and sighed into content.

_**You needed that. Your energy levels were pretty low.**_

_Well, I have been starved the past couple of weeks. Not to mention that my stomach was completely destroyed._

Sitting back in his chair, Harry observed the people at the table. His godfather was looking much healthier than the last time he saw him, for which he was thankful. He was conversing with Lupin, whose hair was thinner and face even more scarred. Mrs Weasley and Bill were having what appeared to be a recurring argument about Bill's hair. Harry laughed internally; Mrs Weasley would no doubt be on to him about his hair soon. Hermione and Ginny were giggling at Tonks who was changing her nose into various shapes and sizes.

_**She must be a Metamorphagus. They are incredibly rare, if I remember correctly; they are born, not made.**_

Ron and the twins were laughing with Mr Weasley about something Muggle related, if the enthusiasm on Mr Weasley's face was anything to go by.

_**I wonder what the Order is doing about the situation with Voldemort.**_

_Perhaps they are recruiting. I would guess Voldemort would be doing the same._

_**That is likely, but they must be doing something else. Try Legilimency.**_

_Excuse me?_

_**It is like mind reading. You would be able to read the thoughts and feelings of the person you are looking at.**_

_Perhaps you better do it. I'm not entirely comfortable with invading someone's mind._

_**If you insist.**_

It was if he were extending tendrils of magic and touching people's mind. Some, like Sirius and Remus, he encountered resistance, and quickly withdrew, fearful of detection. From Tonks, however, he was able to gleam a speck of information.

_Guard duty?_

_**Well, it can't be guarding you; you're here now, so it must be something else. **_

_Maybe Voldemort's after it?_

_**Perhaps.**_

As Harry was internally debating with himself, Hermione was watching him with open curiosity. Ginny, who noticed her lack of attention, nudged her gently. "Hey Hermione, what's up?"

Hermione tore her eyes away from Harry, who was still and silent, but eyes observing everyone and everything. "It's nothing Ginny. Sorry for getting distracted."

Ginny, was not fooled, however. "You were staring at Harry. Did something happen?"

"He asked us about not sending any decent letters, and when we told him that Dumbledore made us swear, instead of getting angry, he pointed out all that we could have done and then threatened to break our friendship."

Ginny turned to look at Harry across the table, who was still lost in his thoughts. "Surely, he didn't mean that."

"He was serious," Hermione muttered, shaking her head, "an angry Harry I can deal with, but a cold and indifferent Harry, I'm completely lost."

Ginny was eyeing up Harry appreciatively. "I know he's always worn his heart on his sleeve, but the whole brooding thing is pretty hot too."

"Focus Ginny! Remember what we talked about. Harry won't pay attention to you if you act like an obsessed fan-girl."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Ginny muttered, looking hurt. "Do you really think that being myself will work?"

Hermione glanced at her sadly. "If it was the old Harry, yes it would. But this new Harry, I'm afraid I have no idea."

Three helpings of rhubarb crumble and custard later and the waistband of Harry's jeans was feeling uncomfortably tight (which was saying something as the jeans had once been Dudley's). As he laid down his spoon there was a lull in the conversation: Mr Weasley was leaning back in his chair, looking replete and relaxed; Tonks was yawning widely, her nose now back to normal; and Ginny, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling Butterbeer corks for Crookshanks to chase.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," said Mrs Weasley with a yawn.

"Not just yet, Molly," said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

The atmosphere around the room changed with the rapidity Harry associated with the arrival of Dementors. Where seconds before it had been sleepily relaxed, it was now alert, even tense. A frisson had gone around the table at the mention of Voldemort's name. Lupin, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary.

_I think you should handle this. I might start shouting._

_**I was just about to suggest that. Great minds must think alike.**_

_We share the same mind._

_**Must you ruin everything? Never mind. Here we go.**_

"**The thought did cross my mind," **said Harry in the bored tone he used previously. **"But the lack of information I have received lately did not promote any desire to hear empty promises and cryptic responses."**

Sirius blinked. Ron and Hermione had the decency to look ashamed.

"**Besides,"** Harry continued, **"I imagine that, if I did ask, they would say we're not allowed in the Order, so –"**

"And they're quite right," said Mrs Weasley. "You're too young."

She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fist clenched on its arms, every trace of drowsiness gone.

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" asked Sirius. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen-"

"Hang on!" interrupted George loudly.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" said Fred angrily.

"_We've _been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!" said George.

""_You're too young, you're not in the Order,'_" said Fred, in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother's. "Harry's not even of age!"

"**Shall I pull out my violin?" **Harry asked to no one in particular.

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing," said Sirius calmly, continuing as if Harry had never spoken, "that's your parent's decision. Harry, on the other hand-"

"It's not for you to decide what's good for Harry!" said Mrs Weasley sharply. The expression on her normally kind face looked dangerous. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

_**Because we must all bow down to Dumbledore.**_

_Hush now. Listen. This is more exciting that than time Uncle Vernon fell down the stairs._

"Which bit?" Sirius asked politely, but with an air of a man readying himself for a fight.

"The bit about telling Harry more than he _needs to know_," said Mrs Weasley, placing heavy emphasis on the last three words.

Ron, Hermione, Fred and George's heads swivelled from Sirius to Mrs Weasley as though they were following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned Butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin's eyes were fixed on Sirius.

"I don't intend to tell him more than he _needs to know_, Molly," said Sirius. "But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back" (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name) "he has more right than most to –"

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!" said Mrs Weasley. "He's only fifteen and –"

"And he's dealt with as much as most of the Order," said Sirius, "and more than some."

"No one's denying what he's done!" said Mrs Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. "But he's still –"

"He's not a child!" said Sirius impatiently.

"He's not an adult either!" said Mrs Weasley, the colour rising in her cheeks. "He's not _James_, Sirius!"

"**He's also sitting in this room, but apparently everyone's forgotten that. But by all means, continue," **Harry muttered. Hermione glanced over and gave him an agonizing look.

"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly," said Sirius coldly.

"I'm not sure you are!" said Mrs Weasley. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"**What's wrong with that?"** said Harry.

"What's wrong, Harry, is that you are _not _your father, however much you might look like him!" said Mrs Weasley, her eyes still boring into Sirius. "You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!"

_**The adults responsible for you should also not be beating your half to death every summer when you return to their house.**_

_Focus._

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?" demanded Sirius, his voice rising.

"Meaning you have been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and –"

"We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!" said Sirius loudly.

"Arthur!" said Mrs Weasley, rounding on her husband. "Arthur, back me up!"

Mr Weasley did not speak at once. He took off his glasses and cleaned them slowly on his robes, not looking at his wife. Only when he replaced them carefully on his nose did he reply.

"Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in, to a certain extent, now that he is staying at Headquarters."

"Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes!"

"Personally," said Lupin quietly, looking away from Sirius at last, as Mrs Weasley turned quickly to him, hopeful that was about to get an ally, "I think it better Harry gets the facts – not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture – from us, rather than the garbled version from others."

"Well," said Mrs Weasley, breathing deeply and looking around the table for support that did not come, "well… I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart –"

"He's not your son," said Sirius quietly.

"He's as good as," said Mrs Weasley fiercely. "Who else has he got?"

"He's got me!"

"Yes," said Mrs Weasley, her lip curling, "the thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"

Sirius started to rise from his chair.

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," said Lupin sharply. "Sirius, sit _down_."

Mrs Weasley's lower lip was trembling. Sirius sank slowly back into his chair, his face white.

"I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this," Lupin continued, "he's old enough to decide for himself.

The room's occupants all turned to face Harry, who was staring off into space. He glanced at them and said, **"Oh, I'm sorry, are we including me in this conversation about me?"**

"Harry, do you want to know what's going on or not?" said Lupin, in his no nonsense voice. Harry glared at him.

"**Of course I want to know what's going on."**

"Very well," said Mrs Weasley, her voice cracking. "Ginny – Ron – Hermione – Fred – George – I want you out of this kitchen, now."

There was an instant uproar.

"We're of age!" Fred and George bellowed together.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" shouted Ron.

"Mum, I _want_ to hear!" wailed Ginny.

"NO!" shouted Mrs Weasley, standing up her eyes overbright. "I absolutely forbid –"

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George," said Mr Weasley wearily. "They _are _of age."

"They're still at school."

"But they're legally adults now," said Mr Weasley, in the same tired voice.

Mrs Weasley was now scarlet in the face.

"I – oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron –"

"Harry will tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" said Ron hotly. "Won't – won't you?" he added uncertainly, meeting Harry's eyes.

Harry merely gave a non-committal shrug and looked away.

"Fine!" shouted Mrs Weasley. "Fine! Ginny – BED!"

Ginny did not go quietly. They could hear her raging and storming at her mother all the way up the stairs, and when she reached the hall the portrait's ear splitting shrieks were added to the din. Lupin hurried off to the portrait to restore calm. It was only after he returned, closing the kitchen door behind him and taking his seat at the table again, that Sirius spoke.

"OK, Harry … What do you want to know?"

_**Explosion imminent. I am going to tear into everyone sitting at this table.**_

_Try not to destroy our flawless reputation._

_**I'll do my best.**_

There was silence at the table. Everyone was looking at Harry expectantly, who was staring at the floor, eyes unfocused. He clenched his fists, turning his knuckles white.

"Harry?" said Sirius quietly.

Harry abruptly stood up from the table and everyone jumped. He was shaking with suppressed anger.

"**Who the hell do you people think you are?!"**

The whole room looked shocked, the outburst was unexpected. Seeing the surprise angered Harry further.

"**How dare you! All of you! How dare you sit there and discuss my involvement with me in the room! I'm might be young, but I am not a child for you to patronise and disclose things from!"**

He rounded on Mrs Weasley, who looked prepared to shout back, but was silenced by the look on Harry's face.

"**I am not your son, nor am I a child. I have been beaten, tortured, mutilated and scarred. I have seen and experienced things that would make grown men cry. I watched a classmate, who I had come to respect and like, die right in front of me. Not that I had much of a childhood to begin with, but it's safe to say it ended there!"**

Harry then spun around to face Ron, Hermione and the twins, who cringed.

"**You lot; you sit there and complain that you haven't heard anything from these meetings, but you've been here! You've still been together! I've been stuck at the Dursleys' for a month! Then you have the audacity to whine about me asking questions! '**_**If Harry's allowed, why can't I?' or 'Harry's not even of age!' **_** GROW UP."**

Harry snarled and pushed away from the table, pacing in the attempt to work off some of the anger.

Ron stood up angrily, "It wasn't our fault, Harry. You aren't the only one to be kept in the dark. We've been trapped in this house too, cleaning –"

Harry slammed his hands down on the table and there was a crash as the plates jumped at the force.

"**CLEANING! **_**CLEANING!**_** YOU'RE COMPLAINING ABOUT CLEANING! I HAD TO CLEAN MY OWN BLOOD OF THE FLOOR AFTER BEING UNCONCIOUS FOR TWO DAYS!"**

Harry was seething, his breath panting out in effort. Everyone was white-faced and scared silent. None of them had seen Harry this angry before. They flinched as Harry straightened up. **"Excuse me. I need to vent."**

He pushed past all of them out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. Climbing the stairs, he reached the curtains that held the screaming portrait and pulled them open viciously. Before Mrs Black could begin to shriek, Harry was shouting incoherently at her.

Back in the kitchen, Sirius, Lupin and the Weasleys, plus Hermione and Tonks, were wincing as Harry was bellowing disjointedly at Mrs Black, who had just begun screaming back at him.

Sirius and Mrs Weasley looked at each other sadly as they listened to Harry's frustrations. "Perhaps we should have been more considerate about Harry's feelings," said Sirius dejectedly. Mrs Weasley nodded, eyes watering.

"When he calms down," Lupin murmured quietly, "hopefully we'll be able to discuss the original topic of conversation."

They all winced at the fresh insults from Harry and Mrs Black.

"FILTH! SCUM! HALF-BREED, MUTANT, FREAK, BEGONE FROM THIS PLACE! HOW DARE YOU BEFOUL THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS –"

**YOU MISERABLE PIECE OF INBRED, SLIME SUCKING, SON OF A WHORE, BITCH!"**

"Waiting for Harry to calm down may take a while," said Hermione, face downcast.

It was around twenty minutes later that Harry returned to the kitchen, face red with exertion, but noticeable calmer. He sat down in his chair, oblivious to all the eyes on him.

_My voice is going to sound terrible, you know that right?_

_**I needed to yell at something. I couldn't yell those things at everyone else, so who better to scream at than a screaming portrait?**_

"Harry, are you alright now?" asked Lupin, who was watching him worriedly.

Waving his hand dismissively, Harry said in a hoarse voice, **"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry about that. It's been building for a while now."**

Sirius nodded in understanding. "You're lucky you can get away with that Harry," he said jokingly, "I wish I could."

Lupin smiled. "You have certainly inherited your mother's temper though Harry."

Sirius shuddered at some revived memory.

Embarrassed, Harry changed the subject. **"I believe you were going to answer my questions now?"**

Once again, the atmosphere became tense with anticipation. Mrs Weasley's face fell back into the frustrated look from before.

Lupin cleared his throat. "Yes, of course. What would you like to know?"

Harry clasped his hands together on the table, thinking deeply.

_No one knows where Voldemort is, so don't bother asking that. Maybe confirm if the Order is recruiting?_

_**We should ask what the Ministry is doing.**_

_What are you talking about?_

_**Remember in the hospital wing last year? Fudge denied Voldemort's return, and as he is the Minister, he's probably controlling what information goes out.**_

_You make an excellent point._

_**I know I do.**_

Harry took a deep breath. **"No doubt Voldemort is trying to raise an army, is the Order attempting to do the same?"**

"We've been recruiting people, yes," said Sirius, whose face betrayed his surprise at Harry's question. "However, it's been difficult to inform people."

Harry grunted. **"I'll bet that's the case."**

Sirius smiled humourlessly. "Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mass-murderer and the Ministry's put a ten thousand Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and hand out leaflets, can I?

"And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," said Lupin, "It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf."

"Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off," said Sirius, "and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet that Voldemort will have them."

"We've managed to convince a couple of people, though, "said Mr Weasley. "Tonks here, for one – she's too young to have been in the Order of the Phoenix last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage – Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset, too; he's in charge for the hunt for Sirius, so he's feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet."

"**But if none of you are putting the news out that Voldemort's back –" **Harry began.

"Who said none of us are putting the news out?" said Sirius. "Why'd you think Dumbledore's in so much trouble?"

"**What do you mean?" **Harry asked.

"They're trying to discredit him," said Lupin, "Didn't you see the _Daily Prophet_ last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true; he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot – that's the Wizard High Court – and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog Cards," said Bill, grinning.

_**Pretty sure that we kill me too.**_

_Probably the most devastating thing to ever occur._

"It's no laughing matter," said Mr Weasley sharply. "If he carries on defying the Ministry like this he could end up in Azkaban, and the last thing we want is Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to he's going to go cautiously. If Dumbledore's out of the way – well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field."

_**Not that Dumbledore would allow himself to be thrown in Azkaban.**_

_You can't deny, Dumbledore's got style._

"**But if Voldemort's trying to recruit new Death Eaters it's bound to get out that he's come back, isn't it?" **asked Harry desperately.

"Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Harry, " said Sirius. "He tricks, jinxes and blackmails them. He's well practised at operating in secret. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in. He's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on those for the moment."

"**What's he after apart from followers?" **Harry asked swiftly. He thought he saw Sirius and Lupin exchange the most fleeting of looks before Sirius answered.

"Stuff he can only get by stealth."

When Harry continued to look puzzled, Sirius said, "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon?" said Harry. "Something worse than the Avada Kedavra -?"

'That's enough!"

Mrs Weasley spoke up from her chair. Her arms were crossed and she looked furious. "I want you in bed, now. All of you," she added, looking around at Fred, George, Ron and Hermione.

"You can't boss us –" Fred began.

"Watch me," snarled Mrs Weasley. She trembling slightly as she looked at Sirius. You've given Harry plenty of information. Anymore and you might as well as induct him into the Order straightaway."

"**Why not?" **said Harry quickly. **"I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight."**

"No."

It was not Mrs Weasley who spoke this time, but Lupin.

"The Order is compromised only of overage wizards," he said. "Wizards who have left school," he added, as Fred and George opened their mouths. "There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you…"

Harry spoke up. **"You mean like being tied to a gravestone and having your arm sliced open?"**

"Harry –" Lupin said.

"**Or perhaps trying to fight a dragon to collect a golden egg? Or maybe, fighting off hundreds of Dementors? Or maybe, killing a Basilisk with a sword will having its fang stabbed through your arm?"**

Harry looked at Lupin, who once again was white-faced. **"Don't tell me about things I can have no idea about. I've been fighting for survival since I was a child."**

Harry then turned back to Sirius and said, **"You said Voldemort was looking for a weapon. But he's not looking for a physical weapon. Knowledge can be a weapon. He's looking for information. Information he didn't have last time. Voldemort is after something that will give him knowledge that he didn't have previously."**

"Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough," Lupin muttered.

Sirius half-shrugged but did not argue. Mrs Weasley beckoned imperiously to her sons and Hermione. One by one they stood up, and Harry recognising defeat, followed suit.

_**And that's the end!**_

_**Thank you very much for reading.**_

_**New chapter up soon.**_

_**I wanted to ask about Harry having a possible paring in this story. Leave your thoughts in a review if you think that's a good idea. Please also provide any suggestions.**_

_**Thanks.**_


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